I turned to the Warriors. "Stay armed and alert. We'll be back soon." Joshua and Aimee nodded, although the expression on Joshua's face told me he wasn’t happy with the arrangement. Unfortunately, he could only complain when he grew himself a pair of wings.
We left them hidden and looked up to get the full view of the Mord side of the castle. As we studied it, I withdrew the cloak and dusted it out. "Right. Let's do this."
Sigrun nodded and waited. I threw the cloak over us and wound one arm tightly to her waist. The other hand gripped Gungnir and the edge of the cloak. It was going to be tricky. Flapping her wings under the cloak would cause it to move and movement meant our invisibility would come and go so we’d have to hover rather than fly. And of course, anyone looking straight up at us would have an unhampered view.
We needed whatever protection we could get, so we were going to have to risk it.
With the cloak tightly around our shoulders, she lifted off slowly, keeping a more sedate pace. A flurry of snow and wind gusted around us, grabbing the folds of the cloak and tugging with such force I wondered for a moment if there was some invisible Jotunn playing mind games with us. But the wind subsided and we continued to rise.
Flying wasn't the easiest thing to do with Sigrun all covered up, feathers smashed down, unable to reach the breadth of her wingspan. She hovered more than flew, and rose higher and higher until we began to see the Tower of Mord grow grimly before us. My grip on Gungnir tightened and I realized how much I'd come to depend on the security of the spear.
The stone exterior of the tower was seamless rock, as if the tower had merely spouted from the rock rather than being built from it. Large windows dotted its walls, spiraling around the exterior until they stopped just below a row of larger, airier windows. I was glad I had Sigrun. The thought of ascending stairs within the tower, going around and around for what would probably be hours, made me feel a little more than queasy.
We passed the windows and I noted with disappointment that they were all barred, keeping prisoners in and everyone else out. As if they knew we'd be coming. Sigrun frowned beneath the cloak and she rose farther until we reached the battlement. She landed, and I was still worried that getting in was no longer as easy as we'd expected.
I turned the cloak upside down and threw it around my shoulders. No time to fold it and hide it within my bag. We scanned the battlement and made for a set of stairs leading down. I peeked around the small wall and down into the stairwell. All clear.
We hurried down the stairs. My heart thudded and I sent a prayer to Odin that we'd find Heimdall without too much trouble. One floor down the stairs ended abruptly, right in front of a thick stone door. Beside the door, sitting on a gleaming metal hook was a fat, black key.
Sigrun and I looked at each other, expressions saying Really? I shook my head and grabbed the key, wasting no time in jamming it into the lock and turning. Tumblers spun and the lock clicked, the stone door swinging open on silent hinges.
Inside, darkness swallowed the occupants, but we could make out the forms of two men chained to the back wall about ten feet apart. They hung from manacles, shoulders bowed, heads hanging low. Neither looked up at our entrance. They must both have assumed their captors were making a visit.
We stepped inside and I glanced at Sigrun. She nodded at me, signaling she'd keep watch at the door. The room stank of body odor and excrement. Neither one of the prisoners was well kept; both wore grayed and worn garments that wouldn’t protect them from the cold. But the room wasn’t as icy as the weather outside despite the stone walls. In fact, it was fairly warm. A part of me was thankful neither prisoner suffered from the freezing cold in addition to the other discomforts of this Jotunn prison.
I stepped toward the larger man, whose muscles gleamed in the pale light streaming in through the barred windows. "Heimdall?" I took another step forward and he opened his eyes.
Chapter 37
He stared at me, his eyebrows bunching in confusion. "Who are you?" His voice cracked, hoarse and scratchy as if he hadn't spoken in days. A noise at the door and we both turned. Sigrun glanced back and me and nodded. Heimdall let out a weak gasp. "Valkyrie Sigrun?"
"Yes, Lord Heimdall. It is I." Sigrun smiled but remained at the door to keep watch. "This is Valkyrie Brynhildr. We are here to take you home."
"Thank you." He appeared relieved although not convinced. "How will you release me from these chains? They are made of dwarf metal."
I frowned. Dwarf metal was well known for its strength and magical properties. But I did have a weapon that could break through Loki's poison, so it would be worth a try. "Let me try something." I lifted Gungnir and stabbed the tip of the blade into the cuff off Heimdall's manacle. The metal snapped and Heimdall's hand fell to his side, free from the manacles. He swung to one side and swayed while I tried to steady him.
"Sorry, I didn't think. Can you lean on me while I break the other manacle?"
Heimdall nodded and lifted his free arm to loop it around my shoulders, the effort bringing veins to the surface of the skin on his forehead. I bore his weight and cracked the other manacle open. "Thank you." He looked at my face, and an odd expression passed over his: curiosity, a hint of admiration, an edge of doubt. He turned his attention to the spear. "You have Gungnir." It was more an observation than anything else, and I chose to merely nod when his gaze returned to my face.
I laid him on the floor, worried now that he may not have the strength to leave the tower. Taking him back down would be difficult, but doable between Sigrun and me. But did he have the strength to flee from the castle grounds, to walk all the way through snow and biting-cold wind to the Bifrost?
I got to my feet but Heimdall held my arm. "Wait. There is one more thing to remove." He pulled me to sit beside him and lifted his tattered wool shirt. Beneath the fabric lay a corset of dwarven metal, melding close to his abdomen. I frowned and studied the contraption. There seemed no way to remove it without risking an injury to Heimdall in the process. And my fear must have been clear on my face because he grunted, then gripped my wrist with bony, malnourished fingers. "Do it."
"What if I hurt you?" I hesitated, my fingers gripping the spear so tightly that my knuckles whitened.
Heimdall shook his head as if the mere movement negated my worry. "We will have to take that chance. I need this metal off me. Or I will not be able to open the Bridge."
"What do you mean?" I frowned. He wasn't making sense.
Sigrun answered from the doorway, saving me from looking like a dork when I asked a dumb question. "Heimdall is the god of the Bifrost. He can open a door anywhere." She paused, turning a sad glance at the emaciated god. "Now it makes sense why he was not able to come home. The dwarven metal would have made it impossible for him to open the Bifrost."
"Ok" was all I could muster. I faced Heimdall, still afraid I would hurt him and yet understanding why he needed the corset off his body. I leaned over him, trying to identify the best area to place the point of the spear. At last, I decided the keyhole was it, and shuddered to think only a thin piece of Dwarven metal lay between the deadly point of Gungnir and the god's sternum.
But I couldn't waste any more time. We had to get Heimdall out sooner rather than later. And Aimee and Joshua waited for us.
I aimed and stabbed. Sparks flew and the metal clanged. Heimdall hissed. I yanked the spear from the keyhole. "What happened?" I asked, terrified I'd hurt him.
"The metal is hot." Heimdall seemed satisfied as he nodded. "This is good. It means Gungnir is working. Keep going."
I stared at him, terribly afraid that I would hurt him more, burn him even and my fear must have been clearly written on my face.
"Do not worry, Brynhildr. A little burnt flesh is a small price to pay for my freedom." He gave me a weak smile and I raised my eyebrows at him.
Okay, you asked for it. Don't come crying to me when I end up making Heimdall barbecue.
I tried again, stabbing the spear directly at the lock housing. More sparks, more heat. Perspiration beaded my forehead from fear. I wasn't sure how much more I could take.
When Heimdall clenched his fists, I was ready to stop and chuck the spear out the window when I heard a snap. I looked closer but the lock seemed intact.
When I met Heimdall’s eye, he grinned. "I heard that and I felt it too. Something is happening in there. Please keep going, Brynhildr."
I nodded, this time more confident that despite the pain I was inflicting on him, he could take it. Welcomed it in fact. Freedom. What a person would do when their freedom is taken from them.
I stabbed at the lock housing again. Once, twice. I raised the spear for the third strike but stopped mid-air as I watched the lock split open and shatter into a dozen small fragments, the keyhole falling apart before my eyes. I sighed, letting go of a breath I didn't even know I was holding.
"Yes." I would have pumped my fist had I not thought it inappropriate with Gungnir in one hand and Heimdall grinning at me. I was never so glad to hurt someone before. I suppressed a shudder as I stared at the burn that remained on Heimdall’s body, the skin puckered and warped. "Are you in a lot of pain?"
"I am well, Valkyrie. This injury is minor compared to what I have been through these past months."